His clothes
by yesimadramaqueen
Summary: "I know thousands—no, millions—of forms of torture. And that, Rose Tyler, is the worst one." Rose has to put on the Doctor's shirt and he can't take his eyes off her. 10/Rose. Complete fluff. Oneshot. Series two.


The Doctor worked the controls of the TARDIS, suspending them near a super nova. Their power supply had all but run out, so they'd be charging there for at least a few hours. He was in the middle of fixing a few loose connections when he glanced up and saw Rose. His mouth hung open.

Rose Tyler was in nothing but _his_ shirt and _his_ slippers. The white button-up shirt was almost see-through in the light, and her bare legs shimmered. She stared at the Doctor—he was still gaping like an awkward teenage boy—and looked down at her ensemble. "What?"

"What do you mean _what_?" the Doctor said back. "You're in my clothes!"

"Oh, that. Right. Well, it was either wear your clothes or wear no clothes at all. I figured your clothes would be better than walking 'round the TARDIS naked."

His eyes glazed over at the thought. Slightly shaking his head, he pointed at her with his sonic screwdriver. "You should have asked me if you could borrow from my closet. They're _my_ clothes."

"I got out of the shower and noticed I needed to toss some things in the wash. So, unless you wanted to talk to me while I was in my knickers and had a towel about my head, I had to toss on something. It's just one shirt."

"No, no, no!" he pointed at her feet. "And my slippers!"

"Would you want to walk around this ship barefoot?"

"Don't you have shoes or slippers or something?"

"Socks are in the wash and don't want to wear sneakers without them. My slippers are in the wash too."

He rubbed his face with both hands. "Slippers…in the laundry…"

"They're machine washable!"

The light was catching her face in a magical sort of way, and he couldn't help noticing that she left the top few buttons undone. Her purple underthings were showing through the thin, pale fabric. But, the worst part was that she didn't have anything on her legs. The shirt came to her knees, yet it would creep up if she moved. It was too much.

"You're telling me your entire wardrobe is in the washer?" he exclaimed, turning away from her to keep his imagination in check.

"Yeah, I am. It'll be done in an hour or so," she smiled brightly. He could handle an hour. "And then it's another hour in the drier."

Two hours? Could he handle her for two hours?

"You could have at least put on some trousers," he mumbled, not meaning for her to hear. She did.

"They were too long. Besides, I think the shirt covers enough."

He didn't think that it covered nearly enough. She sat down and swung her right leg over the other one, leaning on the seat and inspecting her nails. The Doctor had a perfect view of her bare thigh, and quickly busied himself with the controls. "How long are we stuck here?" she asked idly, bouncing her foot.

"A few hours," he answered. The same few hours they would have nothing to do and she had on _his_ clothes. It bothered him in a good sort of way. He knew that his shirt had never looked better.

He tried to do two things at once, so she stood and offered to help. His eyes traveled up her arm, and he noticed how long the sleeves were. "You can't do a thing like that. Here," he went to her and rolled up his sleeve, at least five times, to free her hand. Even though she could have rolled up the other one, they both let it slide that he went ahead and rolled it up as well. "There you go."

She smiled at him and assisted with the wires and knobs, completely aware that the Doctor kept staring. "Your feet are so small…" he commented, totally fixated on her little feet in his big slippers. "In fact, _you're_ just a miniscule person. Am I really that much bigger than you?"

"You're a least a head taller," she laughed.

At that point, he decided to stop bothering with the TARDIS. It was fine. He leaned on the console and crossed his arms. "You must trip in those."

"Only once or twice."

"Only once or twice, eh? That's one or two more times than not tripping at all."

"Good math there," she smirked, sticking her tongue out slightly. "Is there a single equation you can't figure out?"

He hummed thoughtfully, eyeing her curves. She had won. His resolve was gone. The Time Lord charm was turned up to eleven. "There is one."

"Really? I thought you were the cleverest one in a room."

"I usually am, but I'm having trouble with something. Has to do with probability, ratios, lots of variables…that kind of mathematical scientific mathy-sciencey stuff."

His shirt shifted on her body, just enough to reveal part of her shoulder and collarbone. She adjusted the mistake and felt her face burning. She was blushing at the Doctor's interest. Although what she told the Doctor was completely true, she was glad that she had to put on his shirt. He'd never been more attentive in _that_ way.

"You might know the answer to the equation," he stated, clearing his throat clumsily. "But first, I need to do more research."

"Of course. Always good to have research," she nodded. He put on his glasses and stared at her, walking around her in a half-circle until he ended on the other side of her. "What was that for, Doctor?"

"Research inconclusive, I'm afraid."

"I was your research?" she snorted. "What's this equation, then? I know it's got to do with me somehow."

"I can't seem to clarify the means by which my shirt looks better on you. It's my shirt, tailored to fit me, but you wear it so…perfectly. Why do you think that is?"

Her expression was adorable and smug at the same time. "Same reason I wear your slippers so much better."

He grinned. "And why is that?"

"I'm prettier than you."

She laughed and he frowned. "That can't be it. No, that is definitely not it. Never mind me asking you for help on a math problem. Blimey."

He toyed with a lever and Rose snuck up beside him, holding onto his arm. "I think you like what you see. Simple as that…" she whispered mischievously.

"No…" he answered, attempting to sound serious.

"Maybe you've got some human in you. Boyfriends love it when their girls steal their clothes. It's like a possessive sort of thing. Marking their territory."

"Not human, not your boyfriend, not possessive, and territory? Really?"

She rolled her eyes and set her cheek against his shoulder. "Then what do you think it is?"

He sighed, glancing down at her. "Honestly? Combination of all three."

They exchanged smiles and she kissed his cheek, moving towards the other rooms. He watched her walking away and how his shirt would rise right around her—

"I know you're looking," she called as she kept moving. "Eyes on the TARDIS, Doctor."

"You can't expect me to stare at the TARDIS for two hours while you're in my clothes. That's the worst form of torture, and I know thousands—no, millions—of forms of torture. And that, Rose Tyler, is the worst one. I mean, the absolute worst! Cruelest, meanest, rudest, most terrible one!"

"Well," she paused, considering. "I could lose the clothes if that would help."

With a tiny smile, she disappeared into her room.

"Okay, now _that's_ torture…" he muttered.

_**End.**_


End file.
